Finding a Verse

A single word That bursts in my mouth Like the skin of a Sun-warmed late-summer blueberry. I chew the word, consider, and contemplate it. Before I swallow it, I find myself Stuck in a frantic blur of My soul's own search For the very truth Waiting to be found Buried in the sun-dried soil Wrapped and tangled around The roots of the late-summer blueberry.